The Opposite of Love's Indifference
by This Rhythm
Summary: Set during Closetgate 2x14. "No matter how many times she's held her breath underwater, it doesn't compare to the way Fitz robs her of oxygen. They're desperate. Desperate to forget, desperate to move on, desperate to have one another." Olitz.


**A/N: Talk about steamy! I just started watching Scandal about a week ago, and yes, I caught up on all 20 episodes in 3 days. It's a personal record. **

**This is just a little one-shot of the sex scene between Olitz in 2x14. I'm really pissed that Fitz said "I may not be able to control my erections around you," because **_**boy**_**, we know it's more than just a lusty affair! It's true love! Don't you try to twist it! What do you guys think of his behavior? And I was hoping Jake was going to be a nice guy, but he's proven himself to be really creepy. **

**By the way, the title comes from The Lumineers new song "Stubborn Love." **

**Forgive me for any mistakes. (Tehe.) Reviews, in any shape or form, are always appreciated.**

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She misses him, and she never forgets the fact that he actually wanted to marry Olivia. Every night when she lies awake, she looks up at the ceiling and sees the two of them making breakfast, making love, making lunch, making love, making dinner, making love, and being in love. It's the caresses, the soft whispers, the embracing, the promises and his affection – now probably transformed into hate – which makes Olivia feel alive. Alive and whole, sickeningly enough.

Swimming and the lack of air helps her feel something. These past ten months have been nothing but blurry. The only time Olivia can think is when her lungs are screaming for oxygen. In reality, her heart is screaming for _him_.

As she walks inside the church it seems like ten months haven't passed at all. He's still here and she's still here and they can't possibly deny the attraction. At all. Her chest fills up with regret and heartache and she can't breathe. She belongs to him. For the first time in a long time, Olivia wants to take the coward's way and walk right out of there. It's too much – Mellie's piercing glare, her stifling clothes, and him.

She pretends to care but she can't function here. She can't even act like she enjoys talking to people. All she can think is _Fitz Fitz Fitz_. _Come back to me, Fitz. I will always wait._

_ Fitz? _

The priest tells Olivia and Fitz to hold the baby, and she tries so hard to keep her hand away from him. But their fingers touch underneath the pillar of innocence, and she can't help but run her nails softly over his knuckles, nor swipe her index finger over his. She stares and stares, desperately acting as if none of it affects her. Clearly it does. He has bags under his eyes, but his blue orbs penetrate through her, causing her to shiver. His jaw is set tight, a jaw she's pressed kisses a million times, and she wants to say sorry. Olivia wants to beg for his forgiveness. She wants to kiss him, touch him, love him.

Amen.

You always want what you can't have. In Olivia's case, she got her painful, devastating love. While it hurts, it's honestly better to feel pain than nothing. With Edison, she felt empty. With Fitz, she feels _everything._

Back at Cy's house, James gives a warm little speech. The only part she hears is when James wants to remind them of the love surrounding Ella on this fine day (fancy that). Instead, Olivia focuses on her wine, a wine she's consumed way too often these past months. Then she focuses on him, the way he sways a little and takes a generous gulp from his scotch. So he's been having a rough time, too. Neither makes eye contact, each studiously watching the carpet and attempting to not lose concentration.

Olivia bolts right out of there once she gets a chance, because even before the lies and the distance, she was never Olivia Pope in front of Fitz. She was – is – his better half. He is her better half. They're magnets, waiting to be put back together. Right now, she doesn't feel she's a part of him. But even after all this time, it's amazing how she can feel his presence, no matter how far away Fitz can be. Her legs pull her along through the hallway, her feet hurt from the amount of force she's putting, and before she knows it her arms is yanked away. Oh, she wants to be angry at him. Very angry. And of course he would manhandle her as if he owns her.

But he does.

Her heart races in anticipation, and funnily this is why she exists. For someone who controls every aspect in a stranger's life, she would drop everything to feel _this_ out of control in a moment's notice. Olivia watches him and in a split second, his lips crash down on hers.

Everything explodes inside of her. All the nerves in her body tingle in excitement and in fear, but her brain brings her back. Who the hell does he think he is? Who is he to ignore her, to tell her he doesn't want to wait for her, then kiss her as if nothing happened? She slaps him. He stops and pants. Olivia opens her mouth to tell him off, but the way he's looking at her . . . It's as if he never even hated her in the first place. This may be the last time she'll be with him, so she gives into him like she always has, and throws herself at him in abandon.

No matter how many times she's held her breath underwater, it doesn't _compare_ to the way Fitz robs her of oxygen. They're desperate. Desperate to forget, desperate to move on, desperate to have one another. Tongues swirl in a sloppy mix and hands roam over conquered territories. It's almost as if they haven't spent three years away from one another. Her body molds into his, his lean muscles wrapping around her curves. She wants to feel his chest rise and fall, his sweat mingling with hers. She wants to rip his Armani suit and toss it on the ground, but Fitz has better ideas.

Unashamedly, he turns her around. Her body and soul is set on fire. Her hands, acting on their own accord, swiftly unbuckle his belt, and it shocks her how well she knows him – physically and emotionally. It's been nearly eleven months and it stings. He's not gentle but Olivia relishes it. Any contact is better than no contact, right? She takes it all in because at least they're together, even if it means in the most dysfunctional way. And maybe she even deserves it. He's frustrated and dumps it all into this tryst.

This time, though, it's different. There's no love in it. Not wanting to see her face, Fitz closes his eyes, uses her and fucks her from behind. She feels shitty but she can't let go. She will never be able to let go. She turns around and kisses him, because saying words doesn't get them anywhere. Touches and breathy moans means much more.

Despite his anger, he holds himself out until Olivia orgasms and he soon follows; even after three years apart and his anguish, he's a perfect gentleman. He sags heavily against her, and their breathing is inexplicably loud in the confines of the electrical closet. She swallows and takes in deep gulps of air, her heart racing. _Please don't leave_.

Fitz steps back and the cold air automatically hits her. Her legs are shaking, her face firmly set on staring at the electrical wires. Her panties are wantonly lying on the floor. Usually Fitz hands them to her, even gently puts them back on and always teasing. Instead, she can her Fitz's zipper shut tight, and the jingle of his belt buckle alerts her to get her things straight.

Olivia softly clears her throat and pulls her skirt down. She searches for jacket, but Liv hears shuffling to the side and sees his shoes near her, her coat hanging on his fingers. Still ignoring him, Olivia turns around and Fitz gently puts her jacket on. For a split second, before he steps back away from her, Olivia thinks they're somewhat back to normal. The distance tears her apart, but her face masks any discomfort she's feeling. She would put her underwear on, but she has to leave here. Now. Grabbing her purse and steadfastly ignoring Fitz, she shoves her panties inside.

He opens the door and lets her leave first. She's incredibly sore and can't walk. She's incredibly tired and can't breathe. She has to say something, anything. Anything to get Fitz to look at her again. "I made a mistake," Olivia rushes out.

God, he won't even acknowledge her presence. Her chest is crumbling piece by piece. "We both did," Fitz grumbles out. "It won't happen again."

Does he really think she would say no to his touch ever again? Fitz starts walking away. _No, he can't leave_. "I was . . ."

He stops and woefully stares at her. Her guilt eats through her and she whispers, "I was talking about Defiance."

The environment changes. His sweat-dampened forehead glistens under the lights. His eyes flicker, his brows furrow and he steps forward. "That wasn't a mistake." Olivia can smell sex on him, but she zeros in on his grief-stricken face, looking for any sign of forgiveness. Even just a glimmer.

"That was a betrayal."

She tries to see how it was a betrayal. Olivia understands were his anger comes from, but her reason to do it was only for him. Everyone else had their own selfish motives. Mellie got to be First Lady. Cyrus got to be Chief of Staff. Hollis got to be a power-hungry jerk. Verna . . . But Liv? She didn't want anything from Fitz, other than his love and a chance for him to prove himself. A chance to be the person his father believed he couldn't be, a chance to lead the free world in the best possible way.

"I may not be able to control my erections around you, but that does not mean I want you."

Cold water washes through her. That's . . . That's not true. There was – is – a lot more in their relationship. Even with stolen kisses here and there, there was a purpose, a need. This? This just feels . . . indifferent. As if her body, mind and soul is nothing other than a quickie. Fitz told her once to never call herself a mistress. For the first time, she feels like a whore.

"We are done."

This time, she actually believes it.


End file.
